Shenanigans With Not-So-Murderous Clown Robots
by MidnightMorpher
Summary: When Micheal Afton first took the position at Circus World, the last thing he expected was to run into an amalgamation of entertainment robots that wanted to wear his skin. When Micheal Afton was fired on his fifth day, the last thing he expected was him bringing that amalgamation back home with him. Oh boy.
1. Chapter 1

Micheal could hear his heart pounding out of his chest. That one noise drowned out the drowning of the fan, the clanging of factory pipes and machinery beyond the door of the Private Room, and most importantly, the sound of a killer machine moving through hallways and vents with its primary goal of breaching his safe space.

He knew that signing up for a job in his father's company was the first sign that it wouldn't be the average Joe job, but having murderous animatronics gunning after him was just a tad over the top. And by "a tad", he meant very much of the top. For God's sake, why were they going after him? Did they have something against him? It had something to do with his father, didn't it? It was always something with his father. Why why why did he come back here?!

And now that damn monster was talking to him again. It had been Baby at first, thinking that she could guilt trip him into letting her and her friends in. Pah, did she think that he was stupid enough to fall for that, after the first four nights?!

... Then again, he _did_ take this job in his own free will.

But now...now it was a voice that he had not heard in many years. A voice that made his blood run cold. A voice that had once belonged to his sister.

"Hello?"

He froze.

"Hello?"

No, no, no, that can't be her. That's not her that's not her that's not her-

"Hello?"

That's not her!

His nerves were already set on fire, so the slight sliver of noise to his left caused him to whirl around and slam his palm down on the door button. He caught a glimpse of a metal wire before the door closed completely.

Bastard! How dare he use his sister's voice!

"Everything is okay. I'm still here."

He heard shuffling, and he flipped up the camera to see that it had moved away. Another button push brought the door back up again.

"You have to let me inside the room!"

God, it sounded exactly like his sister. His sweet, yet demanding sister. It sounded and acted exactly like her, and yet it didn't.

"Isn't this why you came here? To be with me again?"

Why he came here? Why did he come here? He was well aware of the risks of being in the proximity of a building associated with the Fazbear franchise, much less working in one. So why did he come here? To make a quick buck? To see what his father has been up to? To see what had become of his sister, whom his father had always refused to talk about.

Well, whatever it was, the alternative would have been sitting on his ass all day and watching crappy soap operas. Maybe his mind was subconsciously finding ways to off him.

"I don't understand!"

Yeah, neither did he.

"I know it was an accident!"

His hand shot up to press the door button, and he could have sworn that he had heard a curse before the door closed completely. Huh. Who know kid-friendly entertainment robots knew swear words?

He flipped up the camera, and the image of the monster's clown face filled the screen. As if it knew he was watching it, it looked up and glared into the screen. "Hello, asshole. First time I see you up close," he mumbled, and clinched when the image turned to static. The next second, it was gone. "I hope it won't become personal."

The door opened, and he resumed listening intensely for murderous-animatronic-clown-robot noises.

"We need you so that we can hide!"

No. No way in hell.

"We need you so that we can leave!"

Go AWAY!

He curled his hand into a fist and punched the left door button, wishing with every fibre of his being that it could have been that freak's face instead. The door closed, and the last thing he had expected was deafening banging and screeching from the other side, causing him to physically jump away from the door and back up until his back was against the wall.

"Just let us in!" the creature screeched, and Micheal could hear the distinct sound of wiry cables scratching frantically at the door. "Do you know what they will do to us if they find us like this? They'll-they'll tear us apart! Don't you understand? This is our only chance!"

He swore that his heart stopped when he heard the door creak ominously. Micheal knew that the doors were built to withstand great pressure, but he somehow doubted that the maker had a seven feet tall animatronic in mind during the process. Damn it, if that monster actually managed to break the door down, there will be nothing standing in the way of it getting whatever it wanted. And what it wanted was his lifeless body.

'Unless... Unless I can find something to defend myself with!' That was his only option at this point. He looked around the office frantically, and the first thing his eyes fell upon was a metre-long metal pipe. It looked pretty rusty, but it was his best chance at survival. He snatched it up and held it up like a club. 'I just need to hit it once. Just one whack the moment it bursts into this room, and run to the elevator.'

The door creaked amidst the monster's howls.

'I can do it. I can do it I can do it I can do it.'

He flipped up the camera, and the percentage of power dropped down to 5% as he watched.

'Anytime now.'

"LET US OUT!"

4%

His heart was beating erratically, and beads of sweat rolled into his stinging eyes.

3%

'I'm not dying. Not today.'

2%

"LET US OUT NOW!"

1%

He braced himself.

...

... Then, the bell rang. The sweet, sweet bell.

He couldn't believe his ears. He shakily flipped up the camera, and right before his eyes, the percentage of power was escalating exponentially.

He survived. He survived! He SURVIVED!

At this point, he would have performed a celebratory jig in the office, but then the sound of a large body colliding with the metal door nearly made him hurl his pipe at it. "Why didn't you let us in? Don't you understand what you have done to us?!" it demanded. Micheal switched the camera views, and he saw the feed of that...thing throwing itself against the door and clawing it desperately like its life depended on it. "If they see us like this, they'll...they'll...!"

Micheal didn't dare approach the door even as it slumped onto its knees, making a noise akin to cry-screaming. But it did bring up a good point; if he brought other, more capable employees here, then they can decommission this freak permanently. There should be some coming down now, if HandyUnit's words were to be trusted. All he had to do was to step out of the Private Room, find some living room and-

The door rattled dangerously. "Please let us out!" it wailed. On camera, he could see the violent trembles going through its frame. "We don't want to die! Please... Please let us leave!"

Micheal slowly shook his head, trying to close his eyes and ears to the pitiful begging. Wait, pitiful? God. Was he actually feeling sorry for that monster? There was no way. That thing had been terrorising him for four days straight, including stuffing him into a springlock suit and dangling him over the cliff of death, and kept trying to break into his office to drag him to the Scooping Room. He was well within his moral rights to beat the crap out of it. He should do it anyway, before it tried to kill anyone else. It was so easy; just one push of the button and a swing of the pipe, and it would be finished. Just...one...push...

Carefully, he stepped forward and pushed the button. The door withdrew, revealing the shivering pile of metal cables in the ground. He already had the pipe ready in his hand, but it didn't attack, or even look up. It just stayed in its hapless position, flinching and whimpering. So this was the advanced piece of technology that his father created, huh?

Great, now his only wall of defence was gone, and that was his own fault. If he had any brain cells to spare after this stressful week, he would be walking out of this place without a backward glance.

But then again, what will they do to it once they find it? They would obviously take it apart, but after that? Will they just ship it back to his father, only to end up with another band of killing machines masquerading as entertainment robots? As much as he didn't want anything to do with Fazbear, there was no way he could let that happen without leaving a black stain on his conscience.

Off in the distance, indistinct voices were drawing near.

"Hrng..."

Gah, looks like he had no choice. "Stay there!" he hissed at the pile of parts. He crossed over to the desk and began pulling out drawers, rapidly shifting through various items. "Come on, it has to be somewhere here... Aha!"

He pulled out several blueprints with a triumphant smile, and he dusted them off. He didn't have the time to read the gibberish on them, but the images of the Circus World animatronics were enough for him. Rolling them up, he stuck it under his jacket and turned back to the lump. It was still shivering and crying (without tears). Pathetic.

"Hey." It didn't respond. "Hey, you!" In a particularly bold move, he poked it with the pipe. The thing stilled, and a baby blue eyes peered up at him warily. "You want to get out of here, right?"

A tense moment later, it nodded.

"Then come on. I'll get you out of here," he said, and extended a hand toward it.

What was he doing?

It stared at his outstretched hand, like it was scared of him instead of the other way round, but it eventually accepted his hand with its wiry one. Micheal pulled it up to its fret and led it out of the Private Room, feeling very much like he was leading a child around. Surprisingly, it remained quiet and docile, but who knew how long that could last?

'Well," he thought miserably as he stared at the open vent, 'if this comes to bite me in the ass, at least I'll die knowing I tried to rebel against my dad one last time.'


	2. Chapter 2: Getting Used To New Roommates

Two hours.

It took him two hours to finally sneak that thing out of the facility. To be honest, he had expected it to take a lot longer to pull this off, but of course, they would have gotten out much faster were it not for it kicking up so much fuss. You know, one would think that having an advanced AI would give it some common sense, but that idiot just couldn't get the fact that it could not afford to be seen through its thick head. He had to spew out so much bullshit about his father's machines before he could leave (with the pink slip. Him being fired had completely slipped from his memory).

He squinted against the rising sun. It was only slightly past six, so there was barely any activity on the street, but he couldn't help but worry about the fact that the thing was over seven fucking feet tall. Anyone with eyeballs could see it from a mile away!

He glanced up at its white mask, and its single eye stared back disdainfully. 'Well, only one way to deal with this problem.'

"Hey, you." The eye focused on his face. "Okay, I want you to listen to me for a second. I can't let anyone see you like this, so we have to go through the alleyway to get to my house. It's dark enough, and nobody hangs around that area, so I should be able to sneak you back without anyone noticing."

With no change in expression, it nodded once.

"Okay, good!" Micheal led it to a nearby alleyway further down the street that he knew would lead back to his home. He often took it on his way to the entrance of the underground facility, so he was confident that he could get it through with little difficulty. Well, as long as no one tried to mug him, but... Maybe it could take care of the problem for him.

He tried to pull it with him, but it stayed rooted in its place. "What are you doing?" he hissed over his shoulder. "Hurry up and move, before someone sees you!"

Despite his attempts to convey the urgency of the situation, the thing remained motionless. Its single eye glaring at him, it pointed at the dumpsters and muddy puddles with a sneer only someone with a mask could pull off. A complete 180 degrees turn from it earlier attitude, when it was practically bawling its eye out on the ground. Well, whatever. He didn't have the time to deal with its feelings. "Look, it's either you suck it up and get your feet dirty for a bit or get spotted and torn apart. Your choice," he said in his best "parent" voice. He chose not to mention the fact that both of them would get into trouble if that happened, not just the thing.

It stared at him silently, its mask devoid of any emotion. The only thing about it that could emote was its eye, and it looked about as dead as a fish's eye. Micheal knew that he was pushing his luck now, but... Well, that was all he could do right now, boss it around until it lost its patience and killed him.

Finally, and much to his relief, it gave in and gingerly stepped into the alleyway. He huffed out a breath that he didn't realise he was holding in, and their journey continued. He did his best to keep it quiet, but it soon proved harder than anticipated when it hissed and spat at every speck of dirt that dared to make contact with its feet. And don't get him started on his attempts to talk to it. Oh man, the look it gave him when he awkwardly asked about its well-being promised painful death if he had tried to carry on with the conversation.

That'll teach him to talk to a murderous clown robot.

So they continued on in silence. However, as the silence stretched on, so did one particular thought in his mind. Namely, the suspicion that it may be putting on this act just to get him to lower his guard. Then, once he did so, off goes his head! Some may think of him as paranoid at this point, but who can blame him? For four nights straight, it kept fucking around and trying to kill him, and finally went in for the kill on the fifth night, and now it just decided to be a little puppy and follow him around? Yeah, right.

So it was that thought that plagued him for the rest of the walk home, broken only by a hobo sleeping in a cardboard box. He was either drunk or hopped up on drugs. Whatever it was, he definitely had plenty of energy behind his vocal chords, and he had to practically pull the thing off its feet getting it away before anyone else could come along. Hopefully, anybody that came across that homeless dude will pass off his shouts as drugs-induced hallucinations.

Other than that minor distraction, their journey had been as smooth as silk, and they soon arrived at the doorstep of his apartment. As he fished out his keys, there was a low electrical hum above him. Micheal looked up at it with a raised eyebrow. "What's the matter? Were you expecting a five-star hotel room?" he asked snappily.

It gave him a half-lidded look. So that things developed standards overnight, huh? Well, too bad for it, because this was going to be its home until he kicked the bucket. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing the dingy, but personally cosy, living room. "Come on, get in before someone sees you," he said shortly, hastily waving it in.

It took its own sweet time looking at its new surroundings. Despite the thing's general aloofness with him, it seems very interested in the carpeted floor, so different from the marek plates it was used to, and the ancient television set with a basket of...

"My butter! They actually gave me my butter!" For the first time, a hearty laugh bubbles in his throat and threatens to spill out. He couldn't believe it; of all the things that they could have gotten right, it was his "bonus of the week". The one speck of light in the vast darkness of a week, but whatever, he'll take it! He locked the door behind him and crossed over to the TV, plucking up the basket to examine the sticks of butter. It was supposed to be exotic, right? Did that mean that each stick came from different countries?

All of a sudden, he sensed a presence behind him and yelped in shock. "Whoa, hey!" he barked at the thing. "What the hell? Don't do that!"

It looked unruffled by his scolding. Instead, it extended a hand and pointed at the butter, making another hum at the back of its throat. "What? Are you asking about the butter?"

It nodded once.

"Um..." God, what had his life gone to? Explaining butter to a monstrous amalgamation of animatronics? That thing was looking at him expectantly, so he had to give some sort of answer. "It's...something you put in food to make it taste nicer. Like salt and stuff, but, uh, with a different taste."

There was no change behind its eye, even as Micheal slowly sidled around it to get to the kitchen. It just stayed at where it was, and he could feel its stare burning on his back. He did his best to ignore it.

'I have the pipe, it does not. I have the pipe, it does not. I have the pipe, it does not. I'm safe.'

He didn't believe that for a second.

Then, as he opened the fridge, a voice asked, "Why are you putting that butter in there?"

Micheal stilled. He... He recognised that voice. It was-!

"Baby?!" he gasped, whirling around. The thing stared back impassively. There was no outward change - no green eyes, no nothing - but the same voice started to issue down behind the mask.

"Please do not call me that. I am no longer Baby. I am..." Its eye seemed to glow behind the mask. "... Ennard. Call us Ennard."

He stuffed the basket into the fridge and slammed the door shut. "Ennard? Ennard... Ennard, it sounds like... Oh my god."

Ennard snickered soundlessly, confirming his suspicion.

That son of a bitch. Making jokes about his near death experience like it was a game to it... "I will fucking kill you," he growled. "You... You are an asshole. An asshole, you hear me?"

Its laughter petered out, and its single eye narrowed to slits. It didn't fully understand what "asshole" meant, but the human's aggressive tone told it plenty enough. "I would watch my tongue if I were you," it warned. "Or you might just find yourself ending up like those poor, unfortunate technicians." The last part came out as a low, dangerous purr that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

'Crap, I should have kept my mouth shut, I should have kept my fucking mouth shut.' He backed up nervously as Ennard rose from its slouched position, reminding him at the same time that he was up against a seven feet tall abomination with only a rusty pipe. "Whoa, hey! Stay there, or else you'll really regret hurting me!" he yelped, holding the pipe like a sword.

It stopped in its track, seemingly evaluating the validity of his threat. Then, it began to laugh. A creepy, mechanical laugh that sent chills down his spine. It would have been creepier if he was back at the underground facility, with the persisting darkness and rickety machines, but it still frightened him. "Or else what? You had to rely on doors and cameras to ward me off, and you have none of that right now," it pointed out smugly. "Oh wait, don't tell me. Are you going to use that piece of rust metal on me? Haha, how very amusing."

Crap. What it was saying was true, but... "W-well, even if you kill me now, there's nowhere you can go without getting caught!" His voice started to gain strength as he continued to ramble on. "The neighbours will notice and call the cops, then they'll drag you back to that place and take you apart. Not even you can stand yo to a dozen humans at once!"

His talking sped up into a frantic babble when Ennard took a step toward him. "B-but! I can help hide you! I swear, I won't tell anyone about you! I-I'll help fix you up and everything!"

It paused, tilting it head to the side. "Fix me up? And what is wrong with me, exactly?" it asked.

When Ennard showed no immediate signs of wanting to tear his throat out, Micheal cautiously stepped closer to it. "Well... No offence or anything, but you guys didn't exactly do a good job at putting yourselves together. I mean, you're basically a bunch of cables tied together now," he said, gesturing at its body. "I-if I tighten a bolt here and there, then you'll be able to get around easier."

He watched pensively as Ennard tilted its head from side to side. Was it thinking about his offer, or did it still want to kill him? Who knew what it considered logical or not? After all, this was the same idiot who thought wearing his skin was a good long-term plan. All he could do was hope that it was give him the benefit of the doubt, just this once.

After what felt like an eternity, Ennard gave an aggravated hum and turned its back on him, stomping to a corner near his coat hanger. It took him a few seconds to realise that it just parked itself at the corner like a pouty child, with crossed arms and all. It also took him nearly all of his willpower to giggle girlishly at the sight of it.

Instead, he cleared his throat and said, "W-well, if you're not going anywhere, then just stay there while I... freshen myself up."

It showed no sign of acknowledging his words. Whatever. As long as it didn't try to break down his front door, the it could stay in that corner for as long as it wanted.

He started to go about his normal routine, doing his best to ignore the latest addition to his living room. Jacket shrugged off and tossed onto the couch (stupid Ennard), he went into his bathroom in his bedroom and took off the rest of his clothes, stepping under the shower head. How water splashed down his back, undoing the knots in his shoulders as the week-long stress was washed away.

He sighed. "Fuck, what was I thinking? The moment I bring that thing home, it starts to talk about killing me. I must have hit my head in that stupid suit," he grumbled. He rubbed at the scrape and bruises on his arms, reminded of that thing slapping him around in the Funtime Auditorium before he managed to get into the Private Room. Even a light tap from it stung like hell! He probably spent the rest of his good luck on the bet that the keycard he had picked up could grant him access to that room.

He sighed again. "At least it's behaving itself now. Haven't heard a thing in a while." He started to reach for the soap bar when he heard a strange noise right next to him. "Eh?"

He turned around to find a baby blue eye staring right down at him.

~0~

pEnnard was starting to wish that they were back at the pizzeria.

There wasn't any controlled shocks or Scooper Rooms here, but that human was just as bad! Always yelling and pushing them around like they were some sort of...of...pet! Like a dog that the children sometimes brought to the pizzeria, he thought that they were so easy to push around? Well then, that dummy had another thing coming to him.

Ennard stepped away from the corner. Without the human holding their hand for everything, they were free to explore as they pleased, and as much as they didn't want to admit it, there were so many interesting things to see! The first thing on their list, however, was that "butter" he had put in the white box.

Taking care to keep their footsteps light, Ennard tiptoed into the kitchen and wrapped a cable around the handle, pulling the door open. A rush of cold air hit their torso, and they slammed the door shut with a surprised squeal. "Ugh, what was THAT?!" Funtime Freddy yelled in disgust.

"I think it's the fridge, Freddy! It's the same thing they use to keep the pizzas in," Bon-Bon explained.

"Oh, cool! But it's so much smaller..."

"I want to try the butter," Baby said aloud.

"Everybody, quiet!" Ballora ordered. "Did he hear that?"

All of the animatronics immediately went silent, and Ennard looked at the direction where that human had gone. There was no sign of him coming out, although there was a weird splashing sound coming from the other room. "No. That dummy probably couldn't hear anything even if we did it right next to him," Baby sneered.

"That's not true!" Freddy interjected. "He heard Ballora and Foxy plenty well!"

"Only with my instructions, he did."

"He didn't need your instructions to hear!"

"And if both of you keep arguing with one another like that, I will not be able to hear," Ballora admonished. "Now, can we do find that Eggs Benedict? I refuse to have this filth on me any longer than I have to."

looked down at their feet, which still had bits of garbage clinging to them and felt very unpleasant. "Eurgh."

Where WAS that Eggs? Carefully, they tiptoed out of the kitchen and into the unfamiliar room. It had a comfy-looking bed and a bedside table with many little trinkets on it. Ennard was already itching to poke around for a bit, but the door to their left attracted their attention. Or rather, the splashing noise that was coming from behind it. "Human?"

There was no response.

"Eggs? Hello?" Ennard passed, but they heard nothing again. "What in the name of pizza is he doing?"

They experimentally pushed the door, and surprisingly, it opened with no resistance. The sound of rushing water became clearer, and they could hear someone shuffling inside. Aha, they have him cornered now! There was no way that he could get out of this...

Pushing the door aside, they stepped into the new area and oh for the love of pizza why was everything so bright. Everything was too white and shiny, and it was hurting all of their eyes. A low hum rumbled at the back of their throat. "Where's that human...?"

They stumbled forward blindly, their hand grasping for anything that could help them see when they knocked something over, and it hit the ground with a dull "thunk".

"Eh?"

The sound drew their attention to the source of the rushing water, and they saw the human under a cascading waterfall of water. Their first thought was about the human's lack of clothing. 'So that's what he looks like under his clothes?' He looked...slimmer than his baggy clothing would suggest. And that thing between his legs...

The human's bright blue eyes met his, and they could see the myriad of expressions cross his face in a split second. Confusion, then shock, then his face drained of colour. His mouth was gaping open stupidly, and his eyes were as wide as when he had first caught sight of them.

Ennard was about to order Eggs to wash their feet when he began screaming.

~0~

Micheal was screaming for many reasons; first and foremost being the overwhelming embarrassment that threatens to knock him out cold. The only thing keeping him conscious was the fact that that thing was still staring brazenly at him, and his buck naked body would be on full display if he fainted and WHY WAS IT HERE?

His screaming eventually formed coherent words to hurl at the thing as he half-turned away from it, one hand over his crotch. "FUCKING HELL, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

The thing flinched - actually flinched in fear - and took an uncertain step backward. "I... I wanted you to help clean us off-"

"NO! NO! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, AND DON'T COME BACK UNTIL I'M DONE HERE!" He couldn't remember another moment when he felt this embarrassed.

A rare glimpse of fear in his eye, the thing turned around and fled out of the bathroom. He stepped out briefly to close and lock the door before retreating back under the shower head.

Man, his heart was pounding out of his chest... If that thing doesn't do him in soon, a heart attack surely will. That fucking robot! Hadn't it heard of privacy before! And worse still, it seemed a little too interested in his body...

The hot shower suddenly wasn't so enjoyable anymore. Micheal twisted the knob to "cold", and he flinched as a sheet of icy cold water hit his back. Thankfully, the icy water was doing wonders to his burning face and racing heart, and he eventually managed to calm himself down.

To his right, Micheal could hear muted, mutinous muttering just outside the door, and the shuffling was telling him that the thing was lingering outside. Probably waiting for a chance to ambush him.

Motherfucker, who did it think it was to order him around in his own home? "I wanted you to clean us off", what a load of bullshit. Micheal Afton wasn't some see any to a murderous robot, and he will never be. But of course, to achieve that, he had to explain the fundamentals of privacy to that thing. Mainly, how it was not allowed to enter the bathroom when he was using it... No, scratch that. It wasn't allowed in the bathroom, period.

'Ugh, this is going to take time to get used,' he thought morosely.

...

... "Achoo!"


	3. Chapter 3: Quality Time In The Bathroom

A/N: Hello, hello! Sorry for the wait, you can blame exams for the huge gap in chapters. A word of warning before you read this, I **don't have a foot fetish**.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

=0=

Sooner than he liked, Michael was done with his shower. He wrapped a clean towel around his waist, and he was about to step out when he remembered the robot lingering outside. 'Fuck.'

He had no desire for Ennard to see his dick, so he pounded on the door to get his attention. "Oi, you!" he hollered through the door. "I need to get dressed out there, so I need you to stay out of my room until I'm done!"

A pregnant pause followed his words, then a sullen "no".

"Wha- No?! What do you mean, no?!" he asked angrily. First that thing barged into his private time and saw his nude body, then it refused to do what he asked?

"You were rude to me just now. Why should I have to listen to you?" it asked huffily.

'Oh my god. Someone, please end my misery.' "Please, just stay out for a few minutes. You can come back in after I'm done!" he said, a tint of desperation creeping into his voice.

"No."

No, please, this can't be happening to him. He was stuck in the bathroom after a freezing cold bath, and he had left his clothes on the bed. That bastard also refused to scram for even a second. Clearly, someone up above was out to get him.

'C'mon, think! There has to be some way to solve this problem!' Why won't it leave his room? Did it want something? What... Oh yeah, it mentioned something about cleaning feet, didn't it? Come to think of it, it was walking through that dirty alleyway- Wait, shit. How long had it been walking in his floor?

No, that wasn't important now. He had to get it out of his room first.

He knocked on the door again. "Hey, Ba- Ennard," he hastily corrected. "I need you to listen to me for a bit."

"Why should I?" it asked coldly.

"You wanted me to clean you off, right? I'll do it for you if you leave me alone for a few minutes." Hopefully, it took the deal and left him alone.

Michael could hear a low hum. It seemed to do that a lot, now that he had time to think about it. Later, he'd have to find out what it meant. Wait, no, what was he thinking? "Have you forgotten? You are going to do that for me, whether I go out of the room or not. Anything else you want to offer me?" it asked sarcastically. "A bed of my own? Perhaps a warm meal at the table?"

"What about - Achoo! - a repair?"

There was a pause. "... A repair? You want to repair us?" it asked softly.

Michael relaxed by a fraction. Was Ennard considering it? "Um... Are you alright with that?"

"..."

A horrible thought then struck him. What if Ennard didn't want it? Even worse, what if it refused to let him out? His entire body was shivering like mad, knees knocking together, and he was pretty damn sure he'll be catching a cold by the end of the day. Oh God, did he have to fight it off with just a towel around his waist?

Actually, it wouldn't be much of a fight than murder, really.

"... Very well. I accept your terms." He heard it slink away from the door, and its footsteps recede into the distant.

Michael slowly let out a breath. Unlocking the door, he inched it open and peered outside. There was no sign of Ennard. "Thank God," he muttered, fully pushing the door open and stepping outside. He hastily pulled out a worn shirt and jeans, pulling them on before that thing got curious and peeked in.

Once he was done, the sound of a creaking door reached his ears. The thing's white mask was barely visible around the door. "Are you finished?" it asked with a bite of impatience in its voice.

'It's been barely two minutes.'

"Come on, come on, get in here before you dirty the floor more," he grumbled, grabbing it by its hand. He pulled the reluctant robot into the bathroom and forcefully pushed it into the lid of the toilet.

Of course, that was when everything went wrong. It squawked in protest, limbs flailing erratically as it tried to pull away from him. This wasn't any behaviour he had seen from it before, why was it freaking out so much?! He was forced to back up into the wall and away from the lashing cables, screaming, "Hey, stop that! Calm down, I'm just trying to help y- Ow!"

His head snapped to the side as an errant cable whipped him across his face. Stars burst in his vision as a welt instantly formed on his right cheek, and a metallic taste flooded his mouth. 'Oh, it hurts so bloody much.'

After he was sure he wasn't going to collapse, the initial burn started to fade away, and he pushed himself up unsteadily. His skull was still rattling from the impact of the heavy blow, and a quick probe in his mouth revealed that the inside of his cheek had been cut. He could barely see through his heavily watering eye. Michael gingerly poked his cheek, and a brief flare of pain greeted him.

Once the shock of the attack had worn off, fury started to pulse in his chest. "What was that about, you dipshit?!" he shrieked. "I want to help you, and you give me an injury in return? What the FUCK?!"

The thing was staring at him impassively, it's cables lying still and limp. "Don't touch me," it said in a pompous sort of voice, raising a hand to brush off imaginary dust. "You will damage us further if you handle us so roughly."

"Damage. You don't want me to damage you."

Ennard nodded with the air of someone who had bested another in an arguement.

Michael could feel his blood pressure hitting the roof. His fingers were twitching, they were just itching to wrap themselves around that bastard's throat, if not for the fact that strangling it wouldn't make matters better. Not to mention that it didn't even need to breathe. He was barely able to stay on his feet as it was.

"Then... Then you'll have to wait a little longer," he mumbled through the pain. "I need to get some ice to bring the swelling down, no thanks to you."

With one hand hovering over his injury, Michael started walking out of the bathroom...then paused when he heard an extra set of footsteps behind him.

He looked over his shoulder to see Ennard had gotten up and was following him. "What are you doing? I need you to stay there," he said, pointing at the toilet seat.

Its eye narrowed at him. "I want to keep an eye on you, before you get any idea about...something else," it said cryptically, and it took one step closer to him for emphasis.

What the hell? It wanted to keep an eye on him, because he might try something against it? Talk about hypocritical paranoia. Ennard was the one packed with near lethal strength and cables that could break his bones in an instant, but nooo, it was worried about him.

Unfortunately, one good look at its mask told him that unless he wanted a black eye next, he had better keep his legs moving. So, it was with extreme reluctance that he turned around and continued his trek to the kitchen, the metallic freak only feets away from him. Once in the kitchen, Michael opened the fridge and began digging around for an ice pack.

Meanwhile, Ennard stood behind him and started making a fuss. "I don't know why you find it necessary to treat that little scrape. I've seen other humans suffer injuries worse than yours and not cry over them like a toddler, I don't see why you should waste time treat-"

An ice pack in hand, he withdrew his head and slammed the fridge shut. "Mute it," he snarled. "This isn't going to magically go away on its own, I have to ice it to bring down the swelling."

It tilted its head. "But it is not bleeding at all. I don't understand why you are so worked up about this," it said blankly.

Oh, for fuck's sake. If anything was going to bleed, it was going to be his ears from how much it was talking. "Hey. Hey hey hey." He stared at the thing straight in its eye, his jaw set. "Now, you listen to me, you piece of scrap metal. You don't have any nerves, so I wouldn't expect you to understand, but this fucking hurts. There's no blood, but it hurts. Actually, I'm really lucky that there isn't any blood, do you know how hard you hit me? And if I don't deal with it now, I'm going to be feeling this for the rest of the week," he said. "So if you want me to do a good job, let me ice this."

Without waiting for its response, he wandered off to the upper cupboards in search for cloth strips. He soon found a few relatively clean strips and wrapped the ice pack in one, and he held it against his face while attempting to tie a second strip around his head.

Unfortunately, it proved more difficult than he had anticipated. The pain flared sharply everytime he tugged at the cloth strip, which made him loosen his grip a little, which made the ice pack slip away by a bit, which made the pain intensify, which made him lose his grip... Well, it was a vicious cycle to say the least.

His fingers were fumbling with tying a knot in the strip when another set of hands neatly plucked it from him and tied it from him. He turned, giving the motionless robot an odd look. "Did you...?"

"Don't take it the wrong way," it spat out, shoulders trembling. "You were taking too long, so I just did it for you. Don't give me that look!"

"... Right." Michael wasn't in the mood to have a back-and-forth debate with it. All he wanted was to just get this over with. Plus, he wasn't going to risk getting hit again. Instead, he grabbed a nearby rag and headed back to the bathroom with the robot at his heels.

Entering the bathroom, he was about to push it back down when the earlier incident flashed before his eyes. His hand stilled, and Ennard's eye narrowed at him in suspicion. "Uh... C-could you sit down? It'll be easier on my back if I can clean you that way."

It hummed, and it carefully sat itself on the toilet lid. So far, so good. "Okay, and... Ah crap."

In order to wash Ennard, he'll have to...touch it. And if he touched it again...

He must have been standing in silence for too long, for Ennard made a sharp noise to get his attention. "What are you planning, human?" it asked.

"It's just... I need to hold on to you." He could see its frame stiffen by a fraction, and he quickly held up his hands in defense. "Before you say anything, I am not going to do anything to you, I swear that on my life. I don't plan to do anything to you, I don't want to do anything to you! Does it look like I want to do anything to you?" he demanded, gesturing at the ice pack.

It continued to stare at him apprehensively.

Michael sighed. "Look, you... Ennard. Please listen to me for a sec. I am your former technician." He pointed at himself. "I've fixed you up before, this isn't going to be any different. You remember, right? I've never done anything funny to you before. Heck, if anything, I should be scared of you."

"... I suppose that's...true," it said with some reluctance. His words seemed to have struck a chord in it, as he could see some of the tension deep out of its body. It was still too wound up for his liking though. With slow motions as not to startle it, Michael flipped a pail over and seated himself on it after soaking the rag. He gingerly took its leg, and miraculously, it allowed him to lift it onto his lap with minimal resistance. Even with a mask, Michael could have sworn that it was sulking over its "treatment".

He then got a good look at its foot. 'Ugh!' He thought that Ennard had been making a fuss over nothing, but its foot was absolutely caked in filth! The bits of garbage and stains were nauseating to look at, and he would have thrown up if he had eaten a decent meal in, oh, the past five hours or so. That thing had been walking around with that shit on its feet?

Well, it looked like someone wasn't sleeping tonight.

He sighed again. No use whining about it now, he supposed. He raised the rag and began to gently wipe down its foot, giving no notice to its renewed squawking and squirming. As long as it wasn't trying to kill him, then he was good. For all its posturing from before, it was acting like a pet that didn't want its bath...

Ah. Now that he thought about it, this was probably the first time it has encountered water, right? Unless Ennard tried to steal the employees' bottles. And, if Baby hadn't been lying to him about it, it was comprised entirely of the circus animatronics' insides. No wonder it was making so much noise; the mere idea of a foreign liquid being forcefully applied to his innards made him squirm a bit. Not that he gave a crap about Ennard.

Ennard let out a particularly screechy squeal when the rag accidentally slipped between wires, writhing around in exaggerated discomfort. He had to practically use his entire body to pin down the struggling limb. "Stop! Stop that! You're going to damage us!" it growled. The cables trembled with suppressed agitation.

"Wha- No, no!" Both hands shot up in a placating manner, while discreetly covering his injured cheek. "Calm down, a little water's not going to hurt you!"

Its eye narrowed for the umpteen time. "That is what you say, but you are taking a long time to clean," it said with crossed arms.

"Then what do you want me to do? I can't just hose you down, you'll short-circuit, you moron!" Michael snapped, briefly looking up to shoot it a glare. "It's either my way or spending the rest of your day with crap on your feet."

'Either way, I have to mop the place later.'

Ennard huffed and kicked lightly at his shin, but now Michael felt that resistance seep away. He shakily pushed himself up. 'Whew, crisis averted.'

Both of them lapses into silence again. Ennard was still emitting low whines whenever the rag accidentally slipped under its wires, but it didn't actively try to rip its leg away. He didn't say this out loud, but Michael took care to wash it as gently as possible. Only because the alternative would be too much for him to handle.

Soon, after many rinses of the rag, its foot was relatively clean. Not completely devoid of dirt, but he was sure it wouldn't be making a mess on his floor anymore. "Okay, give me your other foot."

Ennard switched legs obediently, and with one hand gripping it by the ankle, Michael began scrubbing away at the dirt. But his hand was starting to get sluggish... No, his entire body felt leaden and heavy, like a pile of bricks was suddenly dumped on his back. He fought down a yawn. 'This isn't good. I'm going to drop at this rate...'

"Human?"

The one word broke him out of his stupor. "I'm cleaning, I'm cleaning... Um, why are you looking at me like that?" It was staring at him again, but with no malice behind its eye. Did he do something wrong?

"Can I ask you something?"

"Uh, sure?"

"What's this?" Then, to his everlasting horror, Ennard reaches out and very calmly patted his crotch.

The feeling of someone touching his genitalia, even through his pants, was weird. Having an animatronic do it is weirder. Having it ask about his genitalia was enough to make him wish that he was in the Scooping Room. "It's... It's...! You don't have to know!" he yelped. He slapped away the probing hand and jumped away from it, so fast that his head bashed against the shower head.

Rubbing the afflicted area, his voice shook as he asked, "Why do you want to know, anyway?"

"Because your face turns so red when I last it," it said slyly. "You're doing it again! Oh, if only you could see how stupid you look now."

"Keep your trap shut," he grumbled, seating himself on the pail again. "You don't need to know about it. And don't touch me like that EVER again!"

"Why not?" it asked. Ennard was definitely making fun of him now; its chin was resting on an open palm, its coy, half-lidded stare drilling a hole into his dignity. The fire in his face burned fiercer.

Thankfully, the embarrassment kicked his brain into overdrive and blurted out, "Because it's not socially acceptable!"

The exclamation made Ennard lost its playful demeanour, in return for a look far too curious for his liking. "Socially acceptable? Do you mean you are not allowed to show it to other humans?" it asked with a grin.

It'd be less painful if Ennard had just strangled him. "Yes," he mumbled.

"Why? It's just more flesh. I don't see what's the big fuss over it."

Someone kill him now.

"It's... It's just a human thing, okay?!" he yelled. "We don't flash ourselves whenever we want to! It's just inappropriate. And people don't touch it whenever they want to," he added, with a pointed look aimed at it.

Ennard tilted its head from side to side, bringing an image of a huge, metal puppy to his mind. "Hmmm... Is that so?" It hummed, then dropped its gaze. "Very well, I won't talk about it anymore. Are you going to finish cleaning me?"

Michael felt like he got whiplash from the thing's willingness to drop the subject. He was too tired to give a crap at this point, though. How did the saying go? "Don't look in the horse for a gift's mouth", or something like that. Whatever.

The thing already took the initiative to prop its leg into his lap, and it was now waiting patiently with crossed arms. Mustering his remaining strength, he began cleaning again. For the rest of the clean-up, neither said a word more about his dick, for which he was eternally grateful for. Stupid robot, bringing up such a sensitive topic. It even admitted that it was intentional!

At long last, both of its feet were squeaky clean. Michael wasted no time jumping to his feet and stretching his sore back, flexing his cramped fingers. "Man, the things I do for you," he said to bemused robot. "But now that I'm done with your feet, I think it's time to lay down some house rules."

"Rules?" The robot seemed offended by the mere word. "Why?"

"Because this is my house, and these are my rules. You're going to follow them, whether you like it or not," he said firmly, seating himself back down after washing his hands. "I lost my job because of you, so I can't have you wrecking anything in the house before I find another one."

It huffed, but Michael ignored it. "First, you are not allowed in the bathroom when I'm in here, got it? I don't want a repeat of...today?" His cheeks warmed again, but he plowed on regardless. "There's no reason for you to be in here, anyway."

Once again, Ennard somehow pouted at him. "But I want to come in here," it whined. It actually whined. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought that he was taking care of a toddler. "There's so many things I wanna see!"

"Yeah, well, if you break anything, it's going to come out of my own pocket. So, you're not allowed to come in here," he said, wagging his finger at it. "Also, you are not allowed to touch anything in this house without my permission. Not the TV, but the fridge, nothing!"

The thing tried to argue, but he cut it off. "No! That stupid place barely gave me any money as it is, I'm not having you throw it down the drain just like that!"

"... Hmph. Fine," it muttered.

Michael didn't like it. It was being too agreeable with him. Oh, sure, it was nodding along and saying "fine" now, but its mask conveyed about as much sincerity as a block of butter. Who was he to say that the thing wouldn't crush his throat in his sleep? Maybe he should start carrying a bat around...

Ha. Ha. What had his life come to?

No, he didn't have anymore energy left to deal with this. Simply no more energy left to deal with this bullshit in this hour of the day. Once he got himself enough sleep, then he can properly think about this.

"Hey, you. When I'm sleeping, you stay in the living room. Here, I'll turn on the TV for you." He crossed over to the living room, picking up the chipped remote from the couch and switched on the TV. The familiar tune of "Love's The Only Way" filled the room, and its eye focused on the screen. "Just... Stay here, don't make any noise, and don't make a mess."

With that said, Michael returned to his room and practically collapsed onto the bed, his eyes closing the moment his head hit the feather-soft pillow. Oh, if only he knew just what he had unleashed in his house...

=0=

A/N: Thank you for reading this! I hope that this chapter didn't make you feel uncomfortable, I swear the next one will be better.


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